


Trying Not to Remember

by JazTheBard



Series: Lords of Amon Ereb Verse [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adoption, Amnesia, Found Family, Gen, Kidnap Dads, Memory Loss, Misunderstandings, Tolkien Gen Week, Tolkien Gen Week Day 3: Gray Spaces, a nebulous blob of people and feelings inching closer towards family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:21:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25149112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazTheBard/pseuds/JazTheBard
Summary: Maitimo awakes missing a hand, in an unfamiliar place that looks nothing like Tirion, and with two frightened elflings asking him to make breakfast.Or, Maedhros loses his memories.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elrond Peredhel & Maedhros | Maitimo, Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maedhros | Maitimo, Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maglor | Makalaurë, Maedhros | Maitimo & Maglor | Makalaurë
Series: Lords of Amon Ereb Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811929
Comments: 114
Kudos: 193
Collections: Tolkien Gen Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [starlightwalking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/gifts), [KittenWolf29](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittenWolf29/gifts).



> hello and welcome to TGW day 3: gray spaces!
> 
> it's everybody's favorite kidnap dads again, but before they entirely _became_ what we know and love, just a group of people slowly moving in the direction of family.
> 
> this is consistent w my fic Lords of Amon Ereb (which you should read)
> 
> this is for starlightwalking who gave me So Many Ideas, and KittenWolf29 who wanted some fics of LoAE 'verse e&e growing up :)
> 
> i'll be updating every day till it's done! originally it was all gonna be one chapter but it got kinda unwieldy so i split it up

Maitimo slowly came to both consciousness and the realization that something was off.

Even without opening his eyes, the light of Laurelin on his face felt -- wrong, somehow. Dulled. There was something wrong with his right hand, "numb" was the closest word he could find for it, and he ached all over, not severely but steadily.

The bed he lay in was not his own, which was to be expected; he had been riding to visit Tirion. But the sheets were of a rough fabric, a looser weave than even the sort that one would bring camping. It reminded him of Moryo’s early attempts at weaving.

And there was something strange with his fëa.

Maitimo opened his eyes.

The light really was wrong; the angle of it and the way the shadows gathered didn't look right.

The room he found himself in was stone, and not the kind Tirion's buildings were made of, but dull and gray. The sparse furniture was roughly built, with little of the craftsmanship or flair one would expect. There hung on the walls several threadbare banners with his father's device, but there was little other decoration, which was very un-Noldorin.

Strange.

Well, he would have to get up to find out anything else.

Maitimo arose from bed, careful so as not to aggravate his aches. He remembered that his right hand had felt strange, and looked down at it to see why.

Oh.

That would -- that would explain why it felt numb.

His right hand was gone.

Maitimo poked at the stump gently. It seemed long since healed over, and there was no pain when he prodded it. How could this have happened? Perhaps he had been in a terrible accident during his ride to Tirion, one which he did not now remember.

There was a dagger under his pillow. He didn't know what to make of it, so he placed it on the bedside table, where something with buckles lay. It looked to be almost like a glove for his stump, with leather straps to close over the sleeve of a tunic, probably so looking at it would shock him less. He picked it up to put on once he found some clothes.

Now he -- hold on, the shadows had moved. That should not happen. But nonetheless, the shade cast by the desk was at a slightly different angle than it had been.

Maitimo needed answers. He went to the wardrobe to dress himself first; it would hardly be befitting of a prince to run around in pajamas. The clothes in it were of a roughspun fabric as the sheets had been, and all of them looked to have seen heavy use.

But all of the clothes could be easily put on with only one hand, unlike the formal robes he wore in court, so he dressed without much difficulty and fastened the covering he had found over his stump.

He looked in a mirror and immediately reared back.

Was that really him? He looked so... weary. There were scars, yes, likely from the same accident that had taken his hand; they crisscrossed his body (perhaps he would start a new trend in Tirion for such marks). But his face seemed tired, exhausted, like what he had once imagined Grandmother Míriel had felt just before her death.

Maitimo shook himself. He needed to know what was wrong with the light.

It had grown brighter -- Laurelin was waxing -- and he could see clearly the array of arms and the implements for their care that took up a great deal of space. What possible purpose could there be for all these swords and heavy armor? They had no practical use, unlike bows for hunting or axes for chopping wood; they were only a memory of the dangers the Eldar had faced before coming to Aman, a hobby or a fashion statement at best.

He looked out the window.

That was not Laurelin.

It was some sort of burning sphere, somewhat reminiscent of the Golden-Tree, and it moved slowly in what looked like an arc across the sky and hurt his eyes to look at.

The land it lit was unfamiliar, too; he could not recognize this place from any map, and there was a great and foreboding shadow in one direction that terrified him.

* * *

Maitimo was jolted from his thoughts by the door opening and two little elflings peeking in.

They appeared to be a pair of twins with dark hair and grey eyes, and something strangely unelven about them. They felt a bit like the Maiar he had met, but there was something else, too, unidentifiable, that marked them as different from other elves.

Both were unfamiliar, but...

Well. Maitimo might have lost time during his convalescence from the accident; they could easily be new cousins, or even nephews, if Káno and his wife had decided to have children, or perhaps they were younger brothers to Tyelpë.

He would simply have to ask what had happened. After doing whatever it was the boys wanted, of course; he could already feel his well-honed caretaking skills coming to the surface, practiced with years of looking after brothers and cousins and a nephew.

"Hello, little ones," he said, trying to hide his fear and confusion stemming from the fact that nothing here made sense. "Do you need something?"

They flinched. Was he too loud? No, he had spoken quietly. And yet there was a moment of blank terror in their faces before they carefully smoothed it away to only a tight grip on each other and a glimmer in their eyes. It hurt. What had he done to earn this fear?

Wait, their eyes! These children did not glow as everyone else did. He had read that those born outside of Aman, who had never seen the light of the Trees, looked like this, but their eyes did glitter, just a little bit.

This raised more questions than it answered.

One of the twins said, in a meek voice as if unsure, "You said you were going to make us breakfast."

His accent settled most of Maitimo's theories on the boys' parentage, for their excessively Fëanárian accent could only belong to a nephew of his. Why were his own nephews afraid of him?

He smiled. "Of course. How do pancakes sound?"

They shrank in on themselves. The twin who had not yet spoken said, "Anything is fine."

He moved towards the door, hoping he would be able to find the kitchen. The twins immediately scurried out of the doorway and down the hall, and Maitimo could do nothing but follow them.

While they ran, they carried on a whispered conversation in a language that was not Quenya. It did sound similar, though, and to his surprise, he could understand it, though the tongue was unfamiliar.

"What happened to him? Why is he acting like this?"

"Do you think -- do you think this is our last day here, and he wants to make it a good one? It would explain why Maglor went off."

Who was Maglor?

"I doubt it. Or at least, I very much do not want to think so. But you saw the star that night, and every night since."

"There's no reason for us to be here any longer. That has to be it, and yet, he did not recognize us." A pause. "I really hope this is not our last day."

"Me too." They squeezed each other's hands and fell silent when they reached the kitchen.

The kitchen, too, was unfamiliar, but whatever had happened did not affect his ability to cook, so though it took some searching for the implements and ingredients, he managed to get everything together for pancakes.

Hmm. No almonds or chocolate to put into the mix, and not enough blueberries for both of the boys to have a satisfactory number each. Not a very well-stocked pantry at all, but there were enough blackberries to top the pancakes with.

Cooking calmed him. Yes, Maitimo knew not where he was, or what had happened to him, but baking and caring for children were second nature. That never changed.

He served up the pancakes, topped with blackberries and a bit of syrup he had managed to find. The children still appeared afraid of him, but more confused than anything. How did he normally act?

But they seemed to enjoy the food, so Maitimo would call it a victory. He had a few pancakes, too, though they ate the meal in silence.

"So what are you two up to today?" he asked as he washed the dishes, the twins sitting nervously at the table.

The pair glanced at each other a moment before one of them spoke quietly. "We do not have lessons today, could we..." He appeared to steel himself, straightening his back. "Could we maybe go outside the fortress?"

"Just for an hour!" said the other, jumping in. "Surely it would be safe if you were with us, and we would be careful not to get separated or go too far."

Maitimo shrugged. "I don't see why not. You are hardly prisoners here, you need not be cooped up." Was he imagining the way the twins gripped each other's hands tighter? One of them opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it.

The other twin said, "You are not yourself. You do not usually speak to us in Quenya."

" _ That's _ the part you find strange?" hissed his brother.

Maitimo might as well explain. "I'm afraid I don't, in fact, know where I am," he said with a small laugh. "Or who you are, or, for that matter, what happened to me." He gestured to his stump. "But I'm sure that you going outside is fine, and I will accompany you."

"You have lost your memories?"

"I assume so."

"You have been a bit of a doormat today. Much less scary than usual," said one of the twins.

"Elrond, don't be rude!" said the other, with a fearful glance back towards Maitimo.

He knew one of their names now, though it was clearly not in Quenya despite their probably being his nephews.

The twin who was not Elrond said, "We are not supposed to go out without an armed escort. I mean, no one is supposed to, but especially us. It is too dangerous."

What could be dangerous to children in Aman? "I confess I cannot understand why that would be true, but as I said, I know little of this situation I have found myself in. The last thing I remember was riding to Tirion."

"Well, I am Elrond," said Elrond, "and this is my twin brother Elros. We know who you are already."

"It's nice to meet you," said Maitimo, deciding it would probably be rude to ask why they had only one name each and used no patronymic.

Elros said, "You and Makalaurë -- that _ is _ his name in Quenya, right?" Elrond nodded in confirmation. "You two are our... guardians, I suppose. For lack of a better word."

"I can think of a few better words," muttered Elrond in that other language, before both he and Elros clapped a hand over his mouth, looking at Maitimo with wide eyes, as if they feared some kind of punishment. Dear Valar, what had he done to cause this? And what did the boy even mean?

"What is that other language you speak? I can't recall hearing it before, but somehow I understand what you say."

"It's called Sindarin," said Elros in Quenya, still with a hand covering his brother's mouth. "The language of the people of Elwë, and the common tongue of these lands."

"Get your _ hands _ off me, you barbarian, I'm not going to say anything so ill-advised again," said Elrond, slapping him away. "I do actually know better." To Maitimo he said, "Sindarin is our first language. You are the ones who taught us Quenya."

Maitimo cocked his head. "You are of the people of Elwë, then? He was finally found?" Just where  _ was _ Maitimo?

"You could say that, yes," said Elrond carefully. "If you only remember Aman, then you do not know this place. You are in Beleriand, in Middle-Earth."

"I think there are maps in your study, but we're not supposed to go in there," said Elros.

"Middle-Earth? Really?" He had always been curious about the lands east of the Sea. "How did that happen? No one ever leaves Aman."

The twins grasped each other for comfort again. "I do not think we should tell you," said Elrond. "We only know part of the story, and it is unpleasant. You might be upset."

"I might, but I would not be upset with  _ you. _ You know that, right?" said Maitimo, hoping that they did indeed know that. They could hardly be more than halfway to their majority, if that; they should not be so burdened by concern for the reactions of adults.

"...Do you promise you won't be angry? We know how well you hold to your promises," said Elros.

This time it was Elrond's turn to reprimand his twin, elbowing him and saying in Sindarin, "Now who ought to know better? That is no way to keep him from being displeased with us!"

"I promise I will not be upset with you," said Maitimo, afraid of what he might find out.

Elros nodded, seeming to accept his promise, though he still fidgeted anxiously. "The Two Trees were destroyed. Or at least, that's what you told us. And the Enemy killed Finwë, and stole the Silmarils, before he fled to Middle-Earth.”

Grandfather was dead? In the face of such news, Maitimo barely noticed that Elros had called him only “Finwë,” with no title of “King” before his name. Who was the Enemy, and why was it so important what he had stolen?

Elrond continued for him. "So your father tried to follow. For revenge. You all needed boats to cross the Sea, but the Valar said not to, so the Teleri would not lend them. The argument got heated, and..." he trailed off.

"And my father threatened someone with a sword again," Maitimo finished wearily. Of course. The Valar might well have sent them all across the Sea after that as exile.

The twins gave him a puzzled look. "Of course not," said Elros. "Well, probably at first, but at some point it came to blows, and it became a battle, and a great number of Teleri and Noldor killed each other, including you and most of your extended family. You all lived, though."

"We did  _ what _ ?" Maitimo's mind whirled. His father had been exiled for twelve years for threatening someone with a sword; and then turned around and killed someone?

"You really don't remember that? You killed the Teleri and took their ships. I think such a thing would stick in the mind forever," said Elrond, with a hint of bitterness in his tone that earned him a warning look from Elros.

Maybe that was why they feared him. If he had done the unthinkable and killed someone (still he failed to wrap his head around it), of course these children were afraid. And Elwë was Olwë's brother, and they were of Elwë's folk; he might have murdered relatives of theirs. He fought to keep from weeping or being sick.

Elros said hurriedly, as if to mitigate some anger on Maitimo's part, "But it really wasn't so bad. You did not go into it with the intention to commit kinslaying, and no one knows who struck the first blow, and it was all dark. The Valar exiled and cursed you anyway--"

"--Which was an overreaction, elves can be reembodied--" put in Elrond.

"--yes, thank you Elrond, and Finarfin and his people changed their minds. Um, Arafinwë, I mean. But his children kept going."

Flashes of memory began to assail Maitimo, visions of ships in the darkness, their decks stained with blood. A terrible Oath.

(That must be what he felt on his fëa, some sort of binding.)

The children had been telling the truth, it had really happened, he had really done that--

He had  _ killed _ other elves.

And so had his brothers, and apparently his cousins, and maybe even little Tyelpë, dear Eru, what had they done?

And these children were acting like it could easily be worse.

Oblivious to his turmoil, Elrond continued, "So your father and all your people took the boats over to Middle-Earth and said you'd send them back for everyone else because there weren't enough ships for everyone at once. And once you made it, your father burned the ships to keep Fingolfin, that'd be Nolofinwë, from following, so Nolofinwë and his people crossed the Grinding Ice and a lot of them died."

More memory began to surface. "I remember parts of this," said Maitimo. "My father was killed."

Elros shrugged. "I suppose so, since he's not here. You don't like to talk about that time. Something happened to you that involved the Enemy, and that's how you lost your hand, and you let Nolofinwë become king." He paused. "That was a long time ago, though. Hundreds of years, even though years are shorter now under the Sun than the Trees. The Sun is our new source of light," he added, seeing Maitimo's confused expression. "A Year of the Sun is about a tenth the length of a Tree-Year."

"And then the Enemy killed practically everyone, and you and your brothers killed the rest," said Elrond. "Don't look at me like that, Elros, it's true. Except Elwë. That was his own fault."

"We are, for all intents and purposes, orphans, and we have been living with you and Maglor for four years," Elros finished.

That was... a lot to take in. It explained why they were terrified of him, if he was a murderer several times over (he could barely believe he had done it once), but it still felt as if Elrond and Elros had kept something from him.

"Dear Valar," he said, at a loss for words. "I do not understand how this all can be, but your words ring true."

Awkward silence overtook the trio.

Maitimo coughed. "Would you mind showing me around this place? My memory is still slow to return."

The twins looked at each other.

"Why not?" said Elros. "We've already crossed so many boundaries today." Then, in Sindarin, "Thank you  _ so much _ for that, by the way, Elrond. Just because he's friendly right now and doesn't remember why we're here doesn't mean you need to give me a heart attack by saying unwise things."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for a bit of very heavy-handed foreshadowing and also mae parenting on instinct while wrapped up in his thoughts
> 
> elrond keeps trying to get a reaction from maedhros by telling him he has to take care of them, but mae is just like "ok seems legit" bc he's the ultimate babysitter and also a huge pushover
> 
> the book e&e want as their bedtime story is about the adventures of (the middle earth equivalent of) Finn McCool

They began to lead him through the fortress, pointing out each of the different rooms with commentary on which ones they were allowed to go into. Apparently they were permitted in most of the rooms, but not those that "used to belong to one of your brothers, not sure which," any study, the main kitchen, or the armory. Elrond had made another sarcastic comment in Sindarin about there being more than one reason they weren't allowed near weapons, but again Elros shushed him.

The building was all made of the same gray stone, and its furnishings were nothing like what he was used to. But the twins explained that the only places left to live were hastily built and poor in resources. This fortress was actually better than most towns.

"We can't leave, of course," said Elros. "The Enemy's creatures make it too dangerous to go very far, and we're cut off from the other settlements here. You know, I don't actually think the king knows we're alive."

Elrond opened his mouth.

"If you say something along the lines of 'well, we wouldn't want to give him false hope,' I am perfectly willing to punch you."

Elrond closed his mouth and glared.

Maitimo considered telling them that he could understand Sindarin, but decided against it. "Who is the king? You said everyone had been killed." He could barely comprehend such a thing.

"Almost everyone," corrected Elrond. "Galadriel is alive. I don't actually know her Quenya name, though. The High King of the Noldor is Gil-Galad, and nobody knows whose son he is, but no one else wants to be in charge anyway; it seems to be an efficient way to die."

"And of Elwë's people?"

"Leaderless," Elrond said stiffly. "They have a few lords, but Elwë's heirs are... unavailable."

They finished giving him a tour as they explained what Men and dwarves were, due to his asking a question about a Man they ran into.

"And we're peredhil," said Elros. "Part elf, part Man."

"I knew there was something unelven about you!" said Maitimo. "But I was focused on the fact that you seem rather like Maiar."

"We are part Maia, too," said Elrond.

"Huh," said Maitimo eloquently.

The boys dragged him off towards the library to look for maps of Beleriand.

"You said there were some in my study, so we could look in there," he suggested.

"Absolutely not. We are under no circumstances allowed in your study or Maglor's, so when you get your memories back you'll be upset that we were in there, even if you give us permission now," said Elrond.

The library, add it turned out, was tiny.

It was a decent-sized room, true, and filled with books and scrolls, but even the library at Formenos had been six times its size.

He started looking for a map.

As he searched, more memories returned to him. The Darkening, the kinslaying, the boat-burning, his father's death, his own coronation.

The boys became distracted by a book of old riddles after a while, working together to solve them. Maitimo decided to take a break and help them with it.

This was more at ease than he had seen them all day, and for a wonderful quarter of an hour, they forgot to be afraid of him, and he felt as if he might be gaining their trust at last.

Of course that was when his memories of Angband returned.

Maitimo froze, his easy smile becoming brittle, but he refused to react outwardly to the sudden recollection. He settled himself back into conversation, his mind awhirl.

This was false. He was still in Angband; he had never left, and Þauron had found some way to steal away his memories as a way to torture him. These people were not real, and everything they had told him was a lie.

(He tried to ignore the twist of his heart at the knowledge that such wonderful children were only an illusion.)

But that was -- that was good, in a way. He had not killed anyone after Alqualondë, even though they said he had. His family was not dead, and no one had crossed the Ice; these were only lies to make him feel more guilt. Whatever he had done to the children that had made them so scared of him had not happened at all.

He never did manage to find a decent map; the boys moved on to trying to recreate dances from old court dancing books while he demonstrated, and their original intent was forgotten.

"You know, this would work better if Maglor was here to play an accompaniment," said Elrond with a laugh. Then he sobered, as if remembering where he was and who he spoke to.

Elros, too, looked stricken, and took his brother's hand as the fragile happiness seeped out of the room.

There might not be any point, seeing as they were only visions, but Maitimo wished to ease their fears, desperate to bring back that comfortable informality. "It is close to noon," he said as nonthreateningly as possible. "Why don't I make you some lunch?"

They nodded silently and followed him back to the small kitchen where he had made breakfast. He found himself relieved to have remembered the way.

"There are some chickpeas here," he said, looking through the pantry. "Do you two like those? You can help me cook some chana masala."

"That sounds fine," said Elros, having returned to speaking only short and nervous sentences, and even then only when spoken to.

"Then I'll need you two to wash your hands and help me find some ingredients. I still do not know where everything is."

The boys nodded and started looking for the things he listed off.

After everything was found, he demonstrated how to carefully and safely cut the tomatoes, onion, and garlic. When he asked how much cilantro they would like, Elrond shook his head.

"We can't have cilantro. It tastes like soap to us," he said. "Maglor said we didn't have to eat it."

"That's fine. Why don't you grate this ginger, Elrond?" Maitimo handed him the ginger and put the cilantro back with the other herbs. "I'm going to start heating up the oil for the onions and garlic, so be careful over here."

He managed to sauté those quite well for a person with only one hand, and the twins alternated in adding the chickpeas, tomatoes, spices, and some water. He sent them to get bowls while it simmered.

And he remembered being rescued from Thangorodrim.

Findekáno came for him, Findekáno who should have been safe in Aman (they really  _ had _ crossed the Ice), Findekáno who still cared even though Maitimo had failed to do anything right, and suddenly a searing pain in his--

\-- his --

\--his  _ left _ hand, where his palm had brushed a hot part of the pan by accident and it had burned him. He hissed in pain and pulled away.

As he remembered more and more, Maedhros (that was his name now, in this strange language in these strange lands) continued cooking, though despair threatened to swallow him. Elrond and Elros had told him that he would successfully give the crown to Fingolfin, but after that...

According to the twins, after that, despite his attempts to do the right thing, his family had still died, and for some reason he had decided to kill more people.

He should not have been rescued.

But that made no difference right now. There was no need to worry the children. Maedhros served up their lunch with a smile and praise at their cooking skills.

At least it was less tense than breakfast.

After cleaning up, Elrond quietly informed Maedhros that they were going to go play with the other children in the courtyard before running off with Elros in tow.

Maedhros went looking for more clues as to what had happened between his rescue and now.

His study was unlocked, thank goodness, so he could search it for some sort of record or diary. The first thing he saw, though, on the desk, was a set of maps in what looked like his own hand.

Upon closer inspection, it was in fact two sets of maps of both Aman and Beleriand, all with his name written small in the corner. That made sense, he had always been good at mapmaking, and the big map on the wall seemed to be wearing through.

He looked through the desk drawers, but found no diary, only a single tearstained letter addressed to Fingon, which he read.

...Fingon really was dead, and it was Maedhros's fault.

But that wasn't relevant at present. He could process it later. Right now he had to find out who the children were. Wiping his eyes, he stood and put away the letter.

* * *

A crack of thunder sounded in the distance.

Maedhros hurried out into the courtyard, only getting a little lost on the way, and called, "It looks like a spring storm soon. You'll have to go play inside." He noticed that he now spoke Sindarin on instinct.

The children in the courtyard (all Men aside from Elrond and Elros) grumbled, but obediently picked up their toys and went indoors with the adults who were watching them.

(Few of the elves would meet Maedhros's eyes, and fewer still managed to avoid a flash of fear before schooling their features.)

Maybe he would be able to figure something out while supervising the young ones.

He followed indoors to a large playroom. Some of the older children read books in comfortable chairs, while those around the twins' age had already begun building a city out of interlocking block toys, and the very young ones toddled around with little wheeled carts and toy horses.

Maedhros settled into a chair against the wall. For some reason, the children aside from Elros and Elrond had very little fear of him; none of them hesitated to ask him for help or drag him into a game.

So whatever it was he had done, it had to be to the twins specifically. Unfortunately, that did not narrow it down.

Scattered recollections continued to return, but it wasn’t until just before dinner that he remembered something useful.

_ They look like Lúthien. _

It all clicked. Thingol held a grudge against the Noldor, Lúthien was part-Maia and had fallen in love with a mortal, the twins never referred to royalty by title but instead by name, it made perfect sense. Elrond had said Thingol’s heirs were “unavailable,” so it must be because they were here. But why?

Another memory: Lúthien and Beren had been trying to get a Silmaril to gain her father’s blessing. If they had succeeded, he and his brothers would be bound by their Oath to try and get it back.

These children were hostages, held to be exchanged for the Silmaril. No wonder they were afraid! Maedhros did not want to believe such a thing of himself, that he could sink so low, but what other explanation was there? The children were never allowed out without an armed escort, banned from the armory so they could not gain weapons, and watched so they could not escape.

He wanted to smack himself on the forehead. Of course they had reacted badly when he had casually said at breakfast that they were not prisoners.

Lost in his thoughts, he helped carry some of the babies into the great hall for dinner.

_ But wait, _ he thought as he poured fruit juice from a heavy pitcher so Elros and Elrond would not have to lift it,  _ if we took them so Lúthien would hand over the gem, she must still be Thingol’s heir. Maybe something happened to her? But if there is no one else in their family around, what would be the point of keeping them hostage? There must be something else at play. _

After the meal ended, Elrond and Elros followed him as if by habit.

“You know, I don’t actually know where I am going,” he said.

Elros replied, “Normally Maglor would make us take a bath, and then read us a story and sing us to sleep. But he’s not here.”

“He was only supposed to be gone for the day and be back by now, but it’s storming,” said Elrond. “So you have to take care of us.”

That was reasonable. Maedhros was quite used to taking care of various children, and did not like that his current self apparently found that to be beneath him. He must have changed drastically, and not for the better.

* * *

While they waited for the bath to be ready, Maedhros decided to ask the question he needed an answer to. "Would the two of you mind telling me how you came to be in my care?"

The boys froze.

Elrond said, "You know, we  _ would _ mind, but we will tell you anyway."

Elros nodded in agreement.

"To start with, Lúthien succeeded in reclaiming a Silmaril. Elu Thingol was killed for it by some dwarves, but Beren got it back, and when he and Lúthien died, it went to their son Dior, King of Doriath," said Elrond. "Melian abandoned the place when her husband died, so the Girdle fell."

So these were not Lúthien's sons, then.

"So you folk threatened Dior for it, and he refused to hand it over," Elros continued, "possibly because it was set in a necklace from a dragon-hoard, but also possibly because he didn't like you. So you attacked Doriath."

_ What? _

That was even worse than he had thought. His initial assumption, that he had taken the twins hostage to secure the Silmaril without bloodshed, suddenly seemed preferable.

Elrond picked the story back up. "Your three middle brothers died in the battle, but Dior and his wife were slain, too. Your brother Celegorm's servants stole and abandoned Dior's sons in the woods as revenge for Dior killing him, but Dior's daughter Elwing escaped with the other refugees. The boys were six, she was three."

Worse and worse -- Maedhros wanted to deny it all, but quick flashes of memory came to him at their words, confirming the truth. How could whatever he did to these children be worse than leaving two six-year-olds to the elements? Surely the rest of this tale would be better.

"Doriath is gone, then?" he asked with a dry mouth.

"Evacuated and abandoned. The Enemy took it soon after," said Elros. "The refugees went to the Havens of Sirion, as did those fleeing the fall of Gondolin. Elwing married Eärendil, son of Idril and the Man Tuor. And they... well, they had us."

That explained that, then. But they were his cousins? He would not have expected such a thing, especially since Doriath had very much hated the Noldor.

"But Nana had the Silmaril, so you threatened  _ her _ for it, and she said no, so you attacked the Havens while Ada was away. Your two youngest brothers died," said Elrond. "She jumped out a window with the jewel to spite you, and Ulmo turned her into a bird so she could escape."

He had committed kinslaying a third time. Apparently things could always get worse. Apparently  _ he _ could always get worse. What kind of monster had he become, that such atrocities had seemingly become habit to him?

"You and Maglor kidnapped us to use as hostages," said Elros, "but she never came back, and neither did Ada. We were six then, and we've been here for four years."

His guess of hostages had been right, but they had been taken in the aftermath of kinslaying, not to prevent it. He had kept them from their parents for nearly half their lives, and judging by their behavior, not been the kindest of captors or caretakers.

But the story was not over. "And then, three days ago, a new star appeared in the sky at evening," said Elrond. "Two nights ago, you and Maglor took out the telescope. The star is our father, carrying the Silmaril, sailing the skies in some kind of ship. Nana must have found him, but that doesn't explain this."

At that moment, the bath was ready. Maedhros fetched soap and let the tension dissipate from the room in his absence.

"Thank you for telling me," he said when he came back. "For what it's worth, I am sorry."

Elrond and Elros nodded and went to bathe and get ready for bed.

Maedhros was surprised when, an hour later, there came a soft knock to the open door of the library where he was reading and the twins peeked in, their hair still wet.

"Can you come read us a story?" asked Elrond, almost in a whisper.

"Of course," said Maedhros, putting away his book. "What story?"

Elros disappeared and came back a moment later with a small book in his hands. "This one," he said. "It's an Edain folktale about a great hero."

Maedhros took the book and led the twins back to their room, carefully tucking them in and reading to them the adventures of a legendary Man from long ago.

He blew out the candles and wished them a good night's sleep, closing the door carefully on his way out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst time babes, buckle up
> 
> feat. elrond still trying to get a rise out of maedhros and failing bc mae is an actual doormat, and a brief erestor cameo
> 
> warning for mentions of child death, nothing explicit and nothing happens but it is mentioned

As soon as he heard the door click, Maedhros leaned his back against the wall, covered his mouth, and tried very hard not to sob or be sick.

He had -- Valar, he had killed most of these children's family and separated them from the rest, all for the sake of a foolish Oath, and here he was, trying to take care of them! No amount of kindness now could make up for what he had already done, for what he would continue to do when he regained his memories and returned to his regular self.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice from inside the room. He could just discern the words, but not which twin was speaking.

"Do you think Maglor will come back tomorrow?"

"Why wouldn't he? The weather wasn't that bad."

"I guess not."

There was a brief silence.

"Do you remember what you said earlier, about this being our last day?"

"Of course. It would be just like them to try and give us a good last day, don't you think? So we'd at least have that."

"We're not useful hostages anymore now that the Silmaril is out of reach. They don't need us now. You might have been right, even if for the wrong reasons."

"But since Maedhros lost his memories, and Maglor isn't back yet, they shall have to push it back at least. Won't they?"

"I hope so." A pause. "I don't want to go."

"Me neither."

Maedhros, as silently as it was possible to move, ran back to his room where at last he collapsed into a chair and wept.

That very morning felt so long past, but only hours ago had they seen his attempt to care for them and thought they were soon to be killed, that he had only deigned to give them a pleasant last day of life before ending it (a better deal than any of his other victims had gotten, probably in deference to their youth), simply because they were of no more use to him.

No, he couldn't think like that. He was not going to harm them, there would be no point in such violence. Surely his present self, no matter how ruthlessly practical, could see that. Except...

As much as Maedhros hated to think such a thing, it would send a message. And based on what he had done up to this point, he might not need much of a reason at all, especially now that the twins could not be exchanged for the Silmaril.

Surely Maglor had abandoned him because he had known of Maedhros's plan, known that any attempt to stop him or take the children to safety would only end in a third death, and refused to be party to such a foul deed, being unable to prevent it.

Surely he had told a comforting lie of his return to Elrond and Elros so they would not worry, not spend their last day of living in the awful anticipation of their deaths but instead have a few short hours of good memories to take with them to Mandos. Maedhros had to believe that Maglor had left him for this.

Because if he hadn't--

If he had not left permanently, he would return, because he did not see the problem with murdering the children. The kindest interpretation would be that Maglor had no stomach for it, and left Maedhros to do the deed himself, coming back only after it was over. Or worse still, Maglor was off delivering the dreadful news to the king, or on some other errand, and would expect upon his return to see an empty room and two little graves and be  _ pleased. _

(Or just an empty room, the twins forsaken in the woods as their uncles had been, far from any hope or help and left to die alone.)

And even if keeping the twins around was still useful, well. They only needed one hostage.

That must be why Elros kept trying to stop Elrond from making sarcastic comments about their captors. Only one of the pair was strictly necessary to keep around, and anyway there were plenty of methods to discourage undesirable behavior that stopped short of death.

(They had  _ known! _

They had  _ known _ that he was planning their murder, and quietly accepted it, with only a whispered wish in the dark not to die.

A pair of children had no real hope of stopping him, but they were not even going to try, or even bring up their approaching doom. They would have let him play out the whole farce of giving them a good day and probably wouldn't have even pled for their lives, just... let it happen.

He must have crushed their spirits long ago.)

Maedhros would not sit back and let this happen.

He needed some way to ensure that, even when he returned to himself, he would not hurt the twins. Was there any way to make them indispensable, that he would not dare?

_ Try to think like a ruthless monster. What is there that would make both Elrond and Elros too valuable to kill? _

They might not be useful hostages for the Silmaril, but their presence would deter any revenge attacks from the Sindar or the High King; the children were of great importance to both. And that meant they would be a useful bargaining chip, whereas their deaths might cause the other elves to refuse to negotiate.

This was a good start. Maedhros grabbed some paper to write down his thoughts. If he could present this the right way, maybe he could keep them safe from himself, and possibly Maglor as well.

But if his normal self cared little for logic, what then? What if his personal dislike of the boys outweighed practicality, or Maglor's did? There had to be something else, another reason not to hurt them.

...Aha.

He could place them under his protection and that of his House; allowing anyone to harm them would violate that, and there would be backlash from the spells of protection if he purposefully hurt his charges or let someone else do so. But no, though it would certainly protect them from Maglor, such things were easily rescinded and removed.

But if he took it one step further, and adopted them outright?

That would be difficult to nullify on his part, if possible at all, and until such time as the adoption were to end, the children would be untouchable. For he had read in an account of the Great Journey that the process of adoption required a vow spoken before Eru, similar to the way marriage did. Maedhros was reluctant to make another such oath, but if it meant that Elros and Elrond would be safe, would that not be worth it a thousand times over? It was his damned Oath that had gotten the twins into this situation in the first place, after all.

It also meant that if Maglor was a threat, Maedhros would have to defend the children or die trying, upon which time any attempt to harm them would be considered treason against the Head of House.

(Now that he thought about it, if no one knew whose son Gil-Galad was, either Elrond or Elros should be High King, so it would be treason anyway, but not in such a fashion that anyone here was likely to take issue with. He wrote it down on his paper anyway.)

But this plan was perfect. He would not institute the fëa-bond of parents and children, of course, it was hardly his place, but the rest of the adoption would keep them perfectly safe from himself and everyone else.

Maedhros simply needed to make it happen before his memories returned.

What did an adoption require? He tried to remember. Heirlooms and handicrafts, and of course a vow.

There were two sets of maps on the desk of his study, those would do for the works of his hand. He could probably find some kind of heirloom in storage somewhere, too; the issue was getting the twins to accept the gifts, and subsequently adopting them without alerting them as to why. Any sort of kindness would be viewed with mistrust, gift-giving even more so. They would be suspicious of his motives if he outright asked to adopt them, and "I think my regular self is going to kill you and I'm trying to stop him" would hardly be received well.

Maedhros never noticed how exhausted he was, thoughts chasing each other around his head, until he fell asleep at his desk.

* * *

Maedhros awoke in a panic.

He still had the memories from yesterday, but only a few new ones from the past. Good. He was not yet a danger.

Just like yesterday, a knock came at his door, this one less timid than the previous day's.

He opened the door to see Elros and Elrond.

"Are your memories back?" asked Elrond.

"No, not yet." And thank goodness for that. "Are you hungry?"

They nodded.

"How about I make you each an omelette?"

"That sounds good," said Elros.

Maedhros was able today to lead the way to the little kitchen, and cooked omelettes without any trouble.

"What are you two planning on doing today?" he asked.

"We have lessons today," said Elros. "Mathematics and also writing. And etiquette," he added, making a face.

"But Maglor was supposed to teach us that, and he's not back yet," said Elrond. "So unless he returns soon, it'll have to be you."

Surprisingly, there were no worried glances from Elros this time. Maedhros supposed it wasn't such a risky comment, really, though his regular self might have thought it presumptuous.

"That's fine," he said. If he was going to adopt the twins, he might as well try to actually parent them and take an active role in their upbringing.

Elrond and Elros looked at each other with puzzled expressions, probably at his uncharacteristic behavior, and shrugged.

It was just after breakfast, when the twins were about to head off to clean their rooms before going to lessons with the other children their age, when Erestor appeared.

(Maedhros had been informed that Erestor, whom he remembered to an extent but only as a young scholar in Thargelion, was the seneschal of the fortress and, according to the twins, a very demanding teacher.)

Erestor bowed. “Lord Maglor has just come into view. He will be here in about an hour,” he said. Seeing the twins’ excitement, he said, “Which gives you two little scoundrels plenty of time to clean your room.” They deflated, but didn’t argue.

Maedhros felt sick all over again. Maglor was coming back despite the planned deaths of the twins. He clung to the possibility that Maglor did not know, desperate to believe that his brother would not allow the murder of children, but it was likely a vain hope.

While Elros and Elrond went off to do their cleaning, Erestor sat at the table and scrutinized Maedhros.

“You seem to be doing better today,” he remarked. “Still much more cheerful than usual. You’ve already smiled more in the past two days than nearly the full time I’ve known you.”

“I assume everyone knows what happened already?”

“Of course. I’m sure the twins wouldn’t have told anyone if you had asked them not to, but as it stands, they thought I needed to know. And that everyone else needed to know why you were ‘acting funny,’ as they would put it,” Erestor said. “How much do you remember?”

“Everything up to the start of the Bragollach, bits and pieces up through the Nirnaeth,” said Maedhros. “I know what happened after, but I can’t remember it yet.”

Erestor hummed in response. "And you're planning to adopt the boys."

Maedhros nearly dropped the plate he was washing. He certainly hadn't told anyone  _ that, _ and he had only decided just last night. "Yes," he admitted. "They need the assurance that they are always protected, that someone is on their side."

"Well, you shall hear no argument from me," said Erestor, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I happen to quite agree with the idea. I can tell you that no one in the fortress will take any great issue with it, and they will recognize Elrond and Elros as your sons."

"Good." If something happened to Maedhros, they would still be defended, though how Erestor came by all this information, he did not know.

"Ah, back to one-word responses, I see. I shall leave you to your brooding," Erestor said with a smile. He left the kitchen.

Maedhros finished the dishes and went back to his study to retrieve the adoption gifts for the twins. To his surprise, there lay on the desk, next to the maps, a pair of child-sized circlets and a note from Erestor indicating that they should do well enough for heirlooms.

Perfect. Now he just needed to make sure he was doing this right.

Maedhros went to the library and scoured the shelves for a book on the traditions of the Great Journey, for that was where he recalled reading about this before.

To his surprise, he found a slim volume of the familial traditions among different kindreds of elves, including their protocol for adoption. He had remembered correctly: a child must be given an heirloom of some sort, and something handmade by the prospective parent, who would then make a vow of love and protection.

Maedhros took the book back to his study, where he spent the better part of an hour coming up with unassailable wording for the oath he would make. It had to be flawless; the children needed to be safe from him once he regained his memory and returned to being the kind of person who would kill them given half a reason.

He looked out the window. Maglor was almost there; he would have to do this quickly. For all Maedhros knew, Maglor would expect the children to be dead already and take it into his own hands upon seeing them alive.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clutching the maps and circlets to his chest, before speaking into the empty air.

"I, Nelyafinwë Maitimo, son of Nerdanel and Fëanáro, make this vow in the sight of Eru Ilúvatar: Elrond and Elros shall be raised as my children, and I shall allow no harm to come to them. To them will I endeavor to be as a father, and seek their happiness in all things; they shall be considered my children and my heirs. I will protect them from threat and danger no matter the source of it, raise them with kindness and love, and ensure to the best of my ability that they should have a pleasant future and be always cared for. They shall be welcomed into the House of Fëanor as its heirs. Never shall I falter in my duty, though they are free to reject me as parent, my care shall not be rescinded.”

He laid the objects he held out onto the table. ”As token of this adoption will they be given these maps, the craft of my own hand, and these circlets, an heirloom of my House. May this oath made in care and repentance come to better end than my Oath made in foolishness and anger. May Eru smile upon my children and bless this adoption."

Maedhros felt the chains of a new unbreakable Oath wind around his fëa. To his surprise, these ones did not hurt, but settled lightly upon him, as if delicate jewelry rather than iron bonds. It was almost comforting.

And not a moment too soon, for Maglor was at the gate.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter! featuring just a few more dramatic jumps to conclusions, and then clearing it all up :)
> 
> tomorrow i publish the first chapter of my current long fic, Jailbird, so look out for that!

Maedhros rushed to the courtyard, arriving at the same time Elrond and Elros did. He had left the gifts for them in his study, as there was no time to present them now, and he still did not know what to say when he gave them.

Two minutes later, the gates opened to admit Maglor.

“Sorry to be so late,” the elf in question said, dismounting from his horse. “I’m afraid the storm delayed me more than I would have liked.”

Maedhros nodded and said nothing, instead directing his focus to scrutinizing Maglor’s every move. He did not  _ appear _ to be surprised or displeased that the twins lived still, and he smiled at them and accepted their welcome-home hugs, but he had always been a good actor. Again did Maedhros deeply hope that Maglor had not known of his regular self’s plan.

Maedhros was so engrossed in his thoughts that he only started paying attention to the conversation when Elrond pointed at him.

“--and we went to ask him to make breakfast and he didn’t know who we were!”

Elros nodded. “We had to explain where he was,” he said, very seriously for a ten-year-old. “He remembered some things, though, eventually.”

Maglor’s expression shuttered, his face turning stony, and he stood. “I see,” he said, all levity gone from his voice. “Maedhros, would you mind speaking with me for a bit? Go to your lessons, little ones.”

Maedhros’s arm was taken in a tight grasp as Maglor steered him towards his own study. The gifts were in there, but hopefully Maglor wouldn’t notice --

Maglor shut the door and let go of his brother, glaring up at him.

"Maedhros, if you so much as laid a hand on either of them, I will kill you where you stand, brother or not."

"Calm yourself. No harm shall come to the children from me." This was good. Maglor hasn't known. He, too, wanted them safe; the twins would have another line of defense from Maedhros once he regained his memory. And yet... "Why did you leave me with them, if you thought I would be a threat?"

Maglor frowned. "Why would you be one? You can be frightening, and I think you ought to have facial expressions other than varying degrees of gruffness, but normally you would be no danger," he said. "If you forgot where you were, though, and thought yourself to be again in Angband with malicious illusions around every corner? That would be different."

So he really had believed Maedhros to have been safe to take care of them. A shame that his good opinion would now be shattered.

"You should not have trusted me," said Maedhros. "I am sorry to say it."

Maglor's face went white. "What have you done?" he said in almost a whisper.

"Nothing. But I heard Elros and Elrond talk to each other, and they are perceptive, and know my normal self better than I do. I believe that he -- that  _ I _ \-- was going to kill them. I knew not if you were complicit, and I am glad to find you are not," said Maedhros. "I have taken steps to ensure their safety, but when my memory returns, you must defend them from me."

"You--" Maglor broke off. "No. I will not believe it of you. Not after -- you could not have been planning such a thing, not all this time!"

"What do you mean, 'all this time?' Cruel as I have become, I would not have killed them while they were still useful. It was only days ago when that changed."

"What? No! It was months ago when you agreed with me that we ought to adopt them."

Maedhros paused. That changed things.

"So we were planning to..."

Maglor nodded tearfully.

Maedhros realized with a jolt what his normal self's real agenda had been, and that he had unwittingly furthered it. "I was going to turn their minds," he croaked, not wanting even to think it. "And you were going to let me."

What a way to make them useful again! What a perfect mockery of parenthood! The children would be unquestioningly loyal, perfect little Fëanorians who would obey in all things. And his oath not to harm them could easily be twisted to allow the mind-turning; after all, they would be much happier in the end if they were taught to love their captors. Erestor had known, of course, that explained what he had said at breakfast.

This could not be allowed.

Maglor was protesting; Maedhros ignored it as he picked up pen and paper. Elrond and Elros could not stay here, though his heart clenched painfully at the idea of giving up the children he had less than an hour ago named as his own.

This was not about his feelings, or Maglor's, no matter how much either of them claimed to love the twins. If they would put their own selfish affections over the children's well-being, above the children's very selfhood, they were (to say the least) unfit to be parents. This was about making sure the twins grew up safe and alive and free and themselves.

_ "Dear High King Gil-Galad, _

_ With this letter are the twin sons of Elwing and Eärendil. As they can tell you, I recently lost a great deal of my memories. I cannot comprehend the person I have become, and there are no amends I can make, but I beg of you to keep these children safe. _

_ They must be kept well away from both my brother and myself, and if possible, our people as well, just in case. I believe they will recover in time from the years they have spent here. _

_ Do not give them back to our care, no matter what I promise or threaten when my memories return. _

_ I am sorry for everything. _

_ -Maedhros" _

He sealed the letter. Maglor was still talking, so he interrupted. "They go to Gil-Galad. Immediately. I will not permit either of us to hurt them, and they will not be safe anywhere without an army to keep us out."

"If you would just listen--"

"No." He turned to his brother, desperation in his eyes. "Please, you have to see that it is wrong to keep them here, to break them and build them back up as what we want. They will not love us except under threat or mind-turning, or do you forget what we have done? It would be worse than any crime we have yet committed. Do not tell me we have sunk so low as to think this unexceptionable."

Maglor stopped. "Fine," he said eventually. "When you get your memories back, I will not allow you to do anything of the kind, and if I think they are in danger from either of us, they will be sent to Gil-Galad for protection. Satisfied?"

"It's a start."

"Now will you  _ please _ put down that letter and explain to me what exactly it was you did to protect them?"

Maedhros put down the letter. "I adopted them,” he mumbled, covering his face in regret. “I thought it would keep them safe, because it cannot be undone and I swore never to harm them. But I have played into my own hands in doing so.”

Maglor looked almost... upset at that, if “upset” was the right word. “Did you give them the gifts?”

“No, I only just made the vow before you returned, for I was unsure of your intentions. I have not had the time. And of course I have not created the fëa-bond, because--”

“--because it is already there,” Maglor finished.

“--because I have no right to -- wait, what did you just say?”

“Because it is already there?” said Maglor slowly. “You must have noticed.”

Maedhros had not noticed. But now that he knew what to look for, he could see it, woven through the bonds of the Oath he had made to protect them. He swallowed. “When did that happen?”

“The day we took them. They were fading.”

Maedhros sat down heavily. “Then there was never any hope for them,” he said to himself. Nothing he did could change their fate now.

“I think you have very much misunderstood some things,” said Maglor. “I do not think you ever planned to hurt Elros and Elrond, or turn their minds, and if you had I would not have let you. They have been here for  _ four years, _ Maedhros. We tried to hold out hope that their parents had not left them forever, but after a year we felt it unlikely, and have been raising them as best we can.”

“Then why do they fear me so? You cannot excuse whatever I did that caused it; they should not be afraid of their guardians.”

“Think! The fëa-bond goes both ways, they knew something was wrong, and they did not know how to deal with you acting strange,” said Maglor, exasperated. “If you would only ask them things rather than assuming! And I must say, I am upset you adopted them without me. I have not finished my gifts for them yet, I was out getting more fabric for the quilts I am making, and we still must offer them the choice to go to Gil-Galad if they wish to.”

At that moment, the door opened, and the twins rushed in from where they had presumably been eavesdropping.

“Please don’t send us away!” cried Elrond, running over to Maedhros and hugging his legs. "I didn't mean what I said!"

Elros did the same to Maglor. “We don’t want to go!”

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. You do not have to go if you don’t want to,” said Maglor, picking him up into a hug. He gave Maedhros a pointed look. “Isn’t that right?”

Maedhros, not wanting to upset the twins, nodded. “Of course. I am sorry for distressing you,” he said, lifting Elrond onto his lap, where the little one immediately snuggled into his embrace. In an attempt to be stern, he added, “Though listening at doorways is quite rude.”

“You said you wanted to adopt us,” said Elros. “Does that mean you’ll be our parents now?”

"Goodness knows we're in need of some," muttered Elrond.

“Only if you want us to,” said Maedhros, ignoring the fact that he had already done so, and still feeling quite at sea. “We love you very much, but you’re under no obligation, and you can stay even if you don’t want us to be your parents,” he reassured.

Elrond said, "So this isn't our last day here with you? You didn't leave to go get Gil-Galad to take us away because we're not useful anymore?"

So  _ that _ was what he had meant?

"No. We would never do that without warning, and certainly not for such a reason," said Maglor soothingly. "We love spending time with you."

“That's all right then,” said Elros. "We'll think about whether we want to be adopted or not."

“You’ll have to think about it after your lessons, little stars,” said Maglor. “This is all very exciting, but I’m sure Erestor wants to teach you some mathematics.”

Elrond and Elros groaned.

* * *

Maedhros never found out what exactly the twins had discussed while making their decision; he was not the prying sort and had quite enough to handle already with his slowly returning memories (he was nearly up-to-date, and glad for it, though remembering the kinslayings nearly tore him apart) and his responsibilities as a leader.

(Maglor eventually explained to him that he had lost his memories twice before in what they assumed was an aftereffect of his time in Angband.)

But at dinner the next day, the boys announced that they would very much like to be adopted and stay at Amon Ereb. Apparently they had also decided what each of their new parents would be called; luckily, Quenya had two informal words for “father.”

And when they first called him  _ atya, _ the last of Maedhros’s memories came rushing back: those of the past four years, during which he and Maglor and the twins had inched ever closer to becoming the family they were soon to make official.

Maedhros smiled at his sons and enfolded them in a hug. He would keep them safe.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it!
> 
> please leave a comment and/or kudos and check out my other works :)
> 
> In light of recent events: I do not consent to my own original ideas that appear in my fics being used without permission or without credit. If you are able to pick up ideas from my fic then you are certainly able to ask me for permission, and if you are going to publish, credit is REQUIRED.
> 
> This includes names such as elenyafinwë, aþelairë, and almatáru, as well as a number of other details and ideas that appear in my works.
> 
> If you are going to use my ideas for fic that excludes LGBTQ+ characters, for reasons religious or other, I do not give you permission to use them, even with credit.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Lost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25197778) by [Mackerooooons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mackerooooons/pseuds/Mackerooooons)




End file.
